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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808570">Butts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cover Art, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:40:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie and David have a conversation while drinking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stevie Budd &amp; David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Butts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/gifts">unkindravens</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little cheer up ficlet for ravens.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
</p><p>
“No, no, no, no,<em>no!</em>” David’s voice has done that <em>thing</em>, the thing where he gets all shrill and breathy and reaches a register only audible to dogs. He’s shaking his head so fast that it’s making her dizzy.</p><p>“‘M just saying, is all.” Stevie shrugs, her head wobbling like it’s been knocked just a smidge off center on top of her neck. “‘Sides, <em>you</em> started it when you <em>asked </em>me, dumbass.”</p><p>David stops shaking his head in favor of looking up at the sky and sighing. Dramatically, of course. He’s like that guy in one of those Greek tragedies, ready to claw his nails down his face because he just found out his wife’s his mother. Fucking drama queen.</p><p>“Sorry, David, but it’s true.” Stevie takes another long swig of...whatever the fuck kind of fruit wine this is. The one with the highest alcohol content. That’s her favorite flavor.</p><p>“You’re supposed to be my best friend. That means you have to <em>lie to me!</em>” David heaves in a (dramatic) breath, his whole body shuddering, and then collapses (also dramatically). Suddenly, Stevie’s lap is full of a certain whiny someone’s head. He squints up at her, and for a second, she wonders how long he’d have to go without his intensive grooming regimen for his eyebrows to grow together.</p><p>“What?” He’s scowling. Oh, right. It’s probably rude to laugh in his face like that.</p><p>“Nothing,” she snorts. “Look, I’m not gonna apologize. You asked. I answered. That’s that.”</p><p>“That’s <em>that?</em>” David scrambles back up to a seat. “You just drop that bombshell on me and that’s <em>that</em>?”</p><p>Stevie shrugs again, and nods, “Yup, that’s that.” Nodding is fun. It’s funny. The way it makes your chin move up and down, and how your eyes kind of bob and weave and…David looks irritated.“Here,” she holds out the bottle of…peach rhubarb sparkling wine. “You need to catch up.”</p><p>He wiggles his head a little at her, and that’s adorable how he does that. And before he can reach for his plastic cup (because they are <em>classy</em>), she puts the bottle to his lips and turns it up. He takes a long, sloppy drink, and Stevie’s not gonna tell him that some of it may have trickled down his neck onto his sweater. Nope.</p><p>Afterward, they sit there, side by side, just enjoying the quiet of the night. Eventually, David bumps his shoulder against hers. “So, Alexis, huh?” he prods, softly. “Best ass in Schitt’s Creek, really?”</p><p>“It’s an objective truth.” Her cheeks are on fire, because that stupid fizzy fruit wine is the worst.</p><p>“So why are you blushing?”</p><p>“Shut up, Rose.”</p>
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